Merging With The Illusory
by IamDoctorWholocked
Summary: "He watched silently as a young girl walked by. She wasn't real. He knew that. His doctors had told him that. Yet Sherlock couldn't help doubting them. The people he met everyday seemed so genuine. They were much better than the people who existed in the real world. And so Sherlock welcomed the illusions."
1. Creations of the Mind

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter One- Creations of the Mind **

**Description:**_Sherlock suffers from __Schizophrenia._

Xxx

Sherlock breathed in the crisp, clean air of London. It was early morning - the only time the air could actually be this fresh in such a busy city. It was really quite nice, Sherlock thought but he'd never tell John that. Hell, he'd never tell anyone that. There were reasons he liked this time of day. John said it was just because he could irritate the neighbours with loud violin playing but as much fun that was it wasn't why. Sherlock _liked _how the sky was a mix between orange and pink. How the temperature was perfect- warm but not too hot. How when you walked outside a gentle breeze brushed through your hair. The smell of the morning was refreshing. He liked the feeling of alertness that could be achieved at this hour. Waking early helped sharpen his mind. Pain did that too but this was much more comfortable.

He watched silently as a young girl walked by. She wasn't real. He knew that. His doctors had told him that. Yet Sherlock couldn't help doubting them. The people he met everyday seemed so genuine. They were much better than the people who existed in the real world. And so Sherlock welcomed the illusions. He created his own universe where everyone was clever. Not as intelligent as him but still within a reasonably high IQ.

He sucked in a deep breath, drawing in the flavour of the cigarette that was now held in his gloved hand. He'd given up on the patches when the hallucinations came back. They'd returned after he'd stopped taking the pills. He'd stopped taking his tablets because they clouded his mind- made it hard to think. But also he'd stopped taking them because he didn't really want thephantasmagorias to go.

Xxx

Sherlock entered the flat quietly hoping no one would notice his absence. He'd managed to keep these early wonderings hidden from his flatmate. John was a heavy sleeper. He'd never realised Sherlock was gone before. Why should tonight be any different? Unfortunately for him, this was the sleep where John's mind had been plagued by nightmares of Afghanistan. These had mostly ceased after 'A Study in Pink' but occasionally they made reappearances.

"Where were you?" Came John's voice from where he was sitting. As Sherlock walked forwards he could see John's illuminated form resting on the sofa in his pyjamas with a book in his hand. Sherlock knew John had already read it. Definitely at least three times from the state of the cover. He himself never had the patience to re-read books but John found calmness in it. The familiarity was comforting to him. It was something all 'normal' idiotic humans did. Just another reason for Sherlock to dabble in his own dreams.

"Out," Sherlock stated, gracefully pulling off his coat and scarf, eyes never making contact with John's. It was important to have excuses at the ready when one was disobeying the medication yet John had a strange ability to know when Sherlock was lying.

"Yes, but where?" John insisted, leaning forward in his chair.

"Just walking," snapped Sherlock, his patience wearing thin, "Honestly, does it really matter? I just needed some fresh air."

"Yes, at 5am in the morning," muttered John.

Sherlock didn't hear or just couldn't be bothered to respond. He hadn't told John about his 'problem'. He wasn't intending to either. Mycroft believed Sherlock was taking his medicine so he saw no reason to bring the topic up. He was respecting Sherlock's privacy just as Sherlock respected his. Both didn't speak of family matters outside the home. Mycroft probably thought Sherlock had told John anyway. Their friendship was certainly strong enough for Sherlock to have burdened John with the news.

So why didn't he? He tried to believe it was because it wasn't important. A trivial issue from the past ready to be brushed under the carpet. In truth it was because John cared too much. He would always be there; nagging at Sherlock to take his pills, making sure everything was alright. He wouldn't let the hallucinations stay no matter how much more clever they were than him. John was a doctor and doctors followed rules.

John sighed as Sherlock walked past him and straight to his room. He supposed Sherlock was allowed to take walks without him knowing. They were flatmates not a mother and son. John picked up his book and continued reading now Sherlock was back and he knew everything was fine.

In truth however, everything was not fine.

Xxx

Sherlock paced his room, ignoring the feeling of guilt eating away at him. It was hard to ignore the bottle in his cupboard which he should be opening right now. If he was going to continue without them he knew he'd have to dispose of them.

Silently he opened the cupboard and slipped the bottle of pills into his pocket. He'd dump them somewhere in town. If he put them in the bin here John might find them.

Suddenly the phone rang. Sherlock ignored it knowing John would answer.

_Ring ring, ring ring._

Why wasn't John answering? He knew how much the continuous tone of the house phone irritated Sherlock.

_Ring ring, ring ring._

Surely John had heard it? He wasn't _that_ stupid.

_Ring ring, ring ring._

Sherlock jumped off the bed in frustration and threw open the door. If John was stubborn enough not to answer then it appeared he would have to.

John jumped as Sherlock stomped across the room, his footsteps deliberately heavy and loud.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" He asked, once he'd picked up his book which he'd dropped in surprise.

"Are you deaf? The phone is ringing so loudly my head is starting to hurt! Honestly John, the least you could do if not answering is decline the call!"

John looked around the room.

"The phone? What phone? There's no phone ringing."

Sherlock listened too. Nothing.

"Well it's obviously stopped now. You missed it." He snapped back.

John looked up, concern plastered across his face.

"The phone was never ringing, Sherlock."

He stared closer at the younger man. Sherlock was beginning to feel awkward. The way John was staring now was much like how Mycroft had stared at him in the beginning. Like something was wrong with him.

The doorbell rang and Sherlock let out a sigh of relief. John's head turned towards the door too letting him know it _was_ real.

He heard Mrs Hudson answer and let someone up. Normally Sherlock would've deduced who it was but John's worried gaze had turned back to him giving Sherlock something else to think about.

Lestrade entered the room, gasping for air. It was evident that he'd ran up the stairs to reach the one man capable of solving the crimes. He didn't realise tension was in the room.

"Sherlock," He said as soon as he was able to talk without sounding like a dying fish, "Murder not so far from here."

"We should go," John answered, not breaking contact with Sherlock's vision.

"Mmm, I agree," said Sherlock, bouncing up from where he stood, "You know the drill Lestrade- we'll be right behind you."

Greg nodded, just pleased Sherlock had agreed so easily.

"Right then, let's go!"

Xxx

The only problem with taxis, thought Sherlock as he slid next to John, was people always try to make conversations in them and however hard you try it's impossible to avoid being trapped into answering their questions.

The first few minutes passed in silence but eventually John began to crack.

"Sherlock," He started.

The man in question turned his head even further towards the window and said nothing.

"Sherlock," John tried again.

No answer.

"Sherlock!" John yelled so loudly that the taxi driver jumped in surprise, making the car horn honk. Sherlock on the other hand turned calmly towards him, a bored expression on his face.

"What John?" He inquired in an offhand expression.

"Are you okay? And don't lie!" He added as Sherlock quickly opened his mouth to deny any worries John had.

Sherlock studied John carefully. It appeared he honestly cared for his well being. Sherlock still wasn't going to confide in him though.

"John, I am perfectly fine," Sherlock assured him. It was true anyway. There was _nothing _wrong with him.

John accepted this statement. Well, he would for the mean time anyway since the cab had just pulled up alongside the crime scene.

Sherlock quickly unbuckled his seatbelt (a waste of time according to him) and left the car. John paid and followed.

Lestrade was standing at the door, waiting for them.

"Glad you made it," He nodded in greeting.

Sherlock walked past without acknowledging it.

Greg rolled his eyes at John and followed.

The scene itself was one of horrific qualities. A woman's body was lying in the middle of the room and blood was splattered everywhere, dark patches of it surrounding the mangled corpse. Sherlock strode towards the body, unconcerned with the scene. Why should he be? It was just another dead body to add to the list growing in Sherlock's mind. He did keep track of the murder's he investigated. As much as he claimed caring was a disadvantage a small part of him still did. He couldn't help it. All humans were made with emotions. And Sherlock hated it.

He ran a gloved hand across the body and was about to examine it when a gentle voice called out. It was a light, child like tone bouncing across the wind. It wasn't coming from any direction; it seemed to appear from all angles. It giggled quietly and cried,

"Sherlock can't solve it can he? To difficult for stupid Sherlock to solve. Sherlock's just like the idiotic huma-"

"Shut up!" Exclaimed Sherlock suddenly.

"I didn't say anything!" Protested Lestrade.

"You were thinking, it's annoying," Retorted Sherlock, much like back in the case of the serial suicides.

Lestrade shrugged. For anyone else this behaviour would be considered strange but Sherlock was- well, Sherlock.

He continued his examination smoothly, ignoring the voices that spoke. They weren't real. Were they?

Sherlock stood up, ready to give his deductions when a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. He turned slowly, ignoring the confused expression on Greg and John's faces.

Suddenly a figure appeared. The voices began to chant, mocking him. The dark figure approached him and Sherlock was frozen, he couldn't move. The figure lunged and Sherlock fell to the floor, a cry of anguish escaping his lips.

Then the world went black.

Xxx

**A/N: **_This isn't a one-shot as I will be continuing. Basically I was inspired to write this after watching 'A Beautiful Mind'. It's a great movie, really touching. It's one of those things you watch that stays in your mind for a long, long time. I suggest you watch it if you haven't already seen it as it's a great film._

_As you've probably already guessed this fic is about Sherlock suffering from Schizophrenia. _

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._

_Thank you for reading and please review if you have time :)_


	2. Questions need Answering

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter 2- Questions need Answering**

When Sherlock felt his mind awakening the first thing he processed was that the voices were gone. Not the voices of Lestrade and John. No, they were still there- he could hear someone fretting in the background. The strange ghostly whispers had disappeared.

_That's a relief_, he thought. Seemed like the only relief he _would _get considering how hard his head was pounding. He decided to ignore it, grit his teeth and return to the land of the living. Being unconscious was a nuisance. It robbed him valuable time he could never get back.

His eyes fluttered and he heard a relieved sigh. Probably John. Then there were fingers on his pulse. Definitely John.

Sherlock proceeded to open his eyes. John's concerned face filled his vision but he turned a blind eye to it. Instead he focused on resting his hands on the bed and pushing himself up. He succeeded but as soon as he thought he was fine, his legs turned to jelly and he stumbled.

"Easy," Said John, steadying Sherlock with his hand, "I don't think you should get up."

Sherlock didn't air his agreement but he showed his acceptance by sliding back under the duvet. He waited for John's questions but they didn't come. Instead John busied around him, making sure he was okay.

"Where are we?" Asked Sherlock, realising he wasn't in the same room as before.

"The flat," Stated John, checking Sherlock's temperature with his hand.

"What?" Cried Sherlock, rising quickly and shoving John's hand away from his forehead.

"You were out for ages! What did you expect- Lestrade and I to just leave you on the crime scene next to the body?" Replied John, pushing Sherlock back down, "Now let me check you're okay. You've been acting like your sick."

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't have a fever."

"Then what, Sherlock?" Demanded John, throwing his arms up in the air, "Fainting on a crime scene, hearing mysterious phones. I asked you earlier if you were okay and we both know you lied!"

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but found no words would escape. He turned his head away and murmured quietly,

"Go away John. I am FINE!"

John stared down at the man below him. He didn't look fine. In fact he looked the exact opposite. All of a sudden Sherlock looked up, a mortified expression on his face.

"Where's my coat John?"

John sighed. Why would he be worried about his coat? He had just fainted.

"I took it off you after you fainted. What did you expect?" He added as Sherlock's expression turned even more horrified.

"You touched my coat?"

"Well of course I did! It's a flipping coat for goodness sake!"

John glanced at the coat. A feeling of suspicion began to arose in him. Sherlock was acting like a maniac over this jacket. What was he obsessed about? Or maybe... what was in the coat he was obsessed about?

John walked over to the coat which was hanging on the door slowly. Sherlock watched him, his face blank of emotion. John cautiously reached a hand into the pocket. His fingers danced around in mid air for a second and relief spread through him. Then his hands grasped the bottle. He felt his expression turn to panic.

"Sherlock, what's this?"

Sherlock said nothing. John pulled out the object. He looked at it. It was reasonably small and filled with pills. He turned it over, hoping to find some sort of label on the other side but no such luck. It was blank on both sides.

"Why do you have these?" He asked, hoping to get some out of the now, unmoving statue. Again silence.

_Right_, thought John. _If Sherlock's not going to tell me I'm going to have to find someone who is._

Xxx

John sat in the dark room, beginning to regret his choice. He wanted to know what was wrong with Sherlock, of course! He just wished there was another way.

The door opened and none other than Sherlock's big brother, Mycroft Holmes walked in.

"Good afternoon, John," He said in a polite tone, "What brings you to my office?"

John had sent Mycroft a text as soon as Sherlock had fallen asleep. John had slipped some sleeping pills into Sherlock's tea. He was feeling guilty but the man was exhausted. He needed a break from the world. The text itself was short and brief. He had just requested a meeting adding it was serious the end.

"It's Sherlock," He started, trying to find a way to begin this conversation.

Mycroft sighed.

"How did I guess?" It wasn't a question. Of course Mycroft knew the meeting was about Sherlock.

"I'm worried about him." Mycroft raised an eyebrow at this statement.

John pulled out the bottle of small white pills and placed it on the table.

"I found this in his coat. It's got no label, nothing. It could be anything! Sherlock's being acting really weirdly too. First he took a morning walk, then he heard strange noises I couldn't and then he fainted! I think... I think he's back on drugs." Admitted John, disgusted at himself for betraying his friend yet knowing it was for the best.

Mycroft sat expressionless for a moment and then reached out to grab the bottle. He fingered it for a moment before speaking.

"I think you've got it mixed up, Dr Watson," He replied softly.

"What?" Asked John, shocked.

"What I mean," Mycroft continued, his voice stronger, "Is Sherlock is not increasing his drug use. It's rather the opposite. In fact he's decreasing it."

Mycroft expression turned hard.

"Something he should not be doing."

John was still confused. What was Mycroft talking about?

Mycroft saw John's look and proceed to explain.

"Are you aware John, that my brother suffers from severe Schizophrenia?"

Xxx

_**A/N: **__Hello again my lovely reviewers! Short chapter this time but I thought that was a good place. The next chapter, I am pretty sure will be longer. Not much about hallucinations this time but it's getting there!_

_I'd just like to say a massive thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourite/alerted! I am thrilled that you guys like my story!_

_I want to say a special thanks to __**gemstone1234**__. You're review made me smile! It was so encouraging._

_Also thanks to:_

_**Thelittlestoryteller **_

_**Christistina**_

_And basically everyone who's reading!_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._


	3. Shocking Truths

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter 3- Shocking Truths**

_**Acute**__ schizophrenia is when a healthy person shows symptoms over a brief period of time._

_**Chronic **__schizophrenia is the longer term state._

Xxx

John felt his whole body freeze as the sudden bombshell was dropped. Schizophrenia? John had never thought of that word being associated with Sherlock.

"Wh- schizophrenia..Sherlock?" Was all he managed to get out. Sherlock always seemed so calm and confident. He couldn't be schizophrenic.

Well... maybe he could. Sherlock had always been different to everyone else. He'd thought nothing of it. Sherlock was a genius, nothing could be wrong with him. Wrong. Sherlock would hate that word. Sherlock hated it when he was sympathised, thought of as stupid or proved incorrect but mostly he hated being considered 'wrong'. It surprised John how that one word could have so many different meanings. A medical 'wrong' was different from others but people could take it the wrong way.

Mycroft studied him carefully.

"Yes. My brother has a great mind. He can see things before anyone else. To some this would seem a gift- a great skill to have but for Sherlock it's also a curse. His mind needs constant activity, puzzles, crimes, anything to solve."

He paused for a moment letting John process this information.

"It is my belief that Sherlock was always bound to become schizophrenic. Perhaps our parents gave it to him through genes. I can't be certain. Sherlock was always a lonely child. He never had friends. He found pleasure in experiments. To be honest though, I wasn't concerned. Not until the event happened."

He fiddled with the bottle again, twirling it in his hand.

"Our parents were good guardians. They taught us right from wrong although it's not very evident in Sherlock now. They encouraged us to improve our knowledge, learn things beyond our age group. Sherlock and I were natural detectives. We could deduce information from tiny hints. Unlike Sherlock, I had a knack for blending in with the other children. I could be sociable, act natural.

When I was twenty and Sherlock was thirteen our parents were killed in a disastrous car accident. Neither of us were actually there to witness it. I was away at university and Sherlock was at boarding school. I immediately returned for a short break to look after Sherlock. He appeared fine at first. Very calm and accepting.

However, I noticed small changes in a very short period of time. Sherlock was calm to others but to me it seemed closer to depression. You have witnessed for yourself how eccentric he is. It was no different then.

I only realised something was wrong when the phone call came to tell us that our parents' bodies were injured to certain extremes that meant we would not be able to donate their bodies to science. To a man like you, Dr Watson this may not appear very disappointing but to us it was tragic. It was the only definite thing our parents had requested for when they died apart from myself and Sherlock's care. They were passionate about science When I told Sherlock the news I expected him to show some sign of distress. I was shocked however when he burst out laughing.

'Do you see Mycroft?' He exclaimed, manically laughing still with a strange glint in his eyes, 'We can't see the bodies. They can't be donated to science. It's a trick! They weren't killed in a stupid car accident, it's just a cover. No- they were murdered. I know it.'

I was very alarmed by this revelation. Our parents had most definitely died in the car accident. Sherlock knew that. There was no possible way it was anything else.

This all occurred in the time span of a few weeks along with him speaking his thoughts aloud, disorganization and hallucinations. I didn't know about the hallucinations until it was too late. He'd kept them hidden from me. Actually, he thought they were real. I don't know what he saw or who but I had him examined at hospital. I knew these were all the signs of acute schizophrenia.

At first Sherlock resisted treatment and claimed he wasn't ill but eventually he gave in. I never quite believed it. I suppose you've witnessed the extent of his acting abilities. It's quite extraordinary.

He was put on different medicines; today I believe he uses Zyprexa. He appeared to recover well but still refused therapy. Apparently family can help well but that was never an option."

"Never an option?" Broke in John suddenly, angry at Mycroft's statement, "What do you mean? Your parents were dead but he still had you!"

"_Trust," _Said Mycroft, stressing the word, "Is a rather important factor. He never trusted me before and he certainly wasn't going to with schizophrenia."

"Okay," Nodded John, realising this was true, "But you said he was recovering."

"I said he was apparently recovering. Different thing entirely."

Sherlock displays many symptoms of Chronic Schizophrenia even with the medication. I don't know how long he's been reducing his intake but the signs are always there. Without a case he displays a lack of drive to do anything. He spends long periods of time sitting, staring into space. He neglects himself, ignoring sleep and eating. He openly declares himself as a sociopath and apart from yourself and a few others proceeds to carry out that statement."

John found himself making connections. It was all true. Why hadn't he noticed before? It seemed so obvious.

"The hallucinations are returning," John told Mycroft, "What were they like last time?"

Mycroft placed his head on his hands and adopted a look and voice which showed he was clearly thinking.

"I can't say much. He wouldn't speak of them. I just know they could get dangerous enough to drive Sherlock to near insanity."

"And your parents death conspiracy? What of that?"

Mycroft stared straight at John for the next line.

"That was the one thing he never reassured us he was rid of."

Xxx

John rested his head against the glass of the taxi as he was driven home. There was so much information to take in. Everything he'd ever thought about Sherlock... He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. But deep down he knew it was true. Sherlock had schizophrenia. It felt weird to think that sentence but it helped. Helped John to understand. He understood everything. He understood Mycroft's views and opinions but he also understood Sherlock's. Sherlock was just a child when his family passed away. Apparently Mycroft didn't count but John was sure he did. His brother insisting Sherlock's theory about his parent's death was wrong felt like a betrayal.

John wasn't going to have any problems with helping Sherlock. He wanted to insure his friend was okay. He just wished he'd told him sooner. John could've helped, could've talked to Sherlock. Now the problem had grown and it was going to be terribly hard to contain. John knew that 50% of Schizophrenics never truly recovered. It was a frightening figure and given Sherlock's past of drugs, trauma and chronic symptoms...

John Watson was afraid. Afraid that he wouldn't be able to help Sherlock Holmes.

But right now the bigger problem was waiting inside the flat.

Xxx

_Hello again, you awesome, fantastic, encouraging, cool, super, incredible, tremendous, wonderful, superb readers! It gives me great delight to have brought you another chapter of 'Merging with the Illusory'!_

_I have to say a __**massive **__thank you to the amount of people who have put this on their alert. THANK YOU!_

_Also, I love your reviews!_

_**Thelittlestoryteller: **__Haha, yes that was quick! I hope to get another chapter up this weekend! Glad you're enjoying this. I wasn't sure how much detail to give about why Sherlock got schizophrenia but since you asked I put alot! I honestly think it's better this way though! Thank you for loving this!_

_**Gemstone1234:**__ I'm glad it's different. I think the different stories are interesting, don't you? Thank you for loving this/me/Sherlock, basically for being super cool! :D_

_**Cinnamy:**__ Don't worry, John's always there for Sherlock! Here's your explanation, hope it was satisfactory! Thank you for reading and reviewing :)_

_**BYE GUYS!**__! X_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._


	4. Beginning to Accept

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter 4- Beginning to Accept**

John wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door to the flat but it wasn't this.

Sherlock was perched on the edge of the armchair, his body curled up. He was muttering different things and his eyes darted from side to side.

"Sherlock!" Called out John, running forwards.

Sherlock didn't appear to hear and continued muttering.

"That won't work, you obviously wrong. It had to have been some other method."

John reached out to grab Sherlock as he jumped off the sofa and began to pace.

"Get off me!" Yelled Sherlock pushing John away.

John stumbled, shocked. Sherlock had never purposely harmed him (apart from Baskerville but that didn't count). Sherlock was now curled up on the floor, a scared look on his face.

"Stay away from me!" He yelled slowly backing away. His gaze was facing John but it wasn't on him. It was looking at someone behind him. John turned only to find no one was there. Sherlock was obviously hallucinating.

"Sherlock," He repeated in a calming voice, trying to come closer but only making Sherlock's whisperings worse.

"No! Leave me alone! You're... you- I hate you!" He screamed.

John approached Sherlock but the man jumped up suddenly and tried to speed around him. John caught him by the shoulders and pulled Sherlock in to restrain him. Sherlock's sobs began to increase and John stood there for a moment, holding him. After a while Sherlock looked up and croaked,

"John?"

"Shush," Comforted John, helping Sherlock onto the sofa, "It's okay, you were just hallucinating."

"But they were real... I know they were," Protested Sherlock.

John smiled sadly, "That's what happens when you have schizophrenia, Sherlock."

Sherlock's head snapped up when he heard this. His eyes flittered over John for a second before muttering,

"Mycroft. You contacted him."

"What did you expect me to do? I was worried about you." He came to sit next to Sherlock, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sherlock turned to look at John with a surprised expression.

"You really don't know?"

John thought for a moment.

"You don't like people feeling sorry for you. You don't like help. Actually, I don't even think you like acknowledging the fact you have schizophrenia." John told him, "God Sherlock... this is important!" The last line was delivered angrily.

"Why?" Demanded Sherlock.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you decided to stop taking your medication and if I'd known I could've helped you!"

Sherlock looked down at the carpet, unhappy with how John was reacting.

"It shouldn't matter to you. And the medication was annoying, it clouded my head. I can manage absolutely fine without it."

John glared at Sherlock.

"Of course I care- you're my friend. And like how you managed it tonight? You've got to start accepting the fact that you have a medical condition. First step to recovery. The medication is important. I'm sorry it isn't excellent but _please,_ Sherlock if you let me help you perhaps you might not have to take them anymore."

Sherlock thought this over. He had originally wanted the illusions to stay but tonight they had turned dangerous. He could also stop taking his medication if they left. It was an excellent compromise.

"I..." Sherlock started and John hoped Sherlock was seeing sense.

"...Yes. I- I, well, maybe that could... work." He got out and John smiled.

"Of course that could. Before we talk anymore though I want you in bed and resting. You've had a long and mentally exhausting day despite the fact I tried to sedate you. You need sleep." He said sternly.

"But-" Sherlock tried to argue but John interrupted.

"No! Come on, I'll help you up." He let Sherlock lean on him as they climbed the stairs.

"Thank you John," Breathed Sherlock, tiredness getting the better of him.

"You're welcome," John answered, happy that Sherlock was on the road to recovery. Yes, it would be long but nothing is impossible.

Xxx

Sherlock closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness. He hated to admit it but John was right; He was fatigued.

He wasn't sure how it happened, one minute he was nowhere, drifting between worlds and the next he was terrified. He couldn't breathe. Feelings of panic were aroused and he tried to run but he was frozen.

Blackness rose around him and Sherlock let out a scream.

Xxx

John wasn't sure how long Sherlock had been asleep for. More than five hours for sure. . After the startling conversation he still hadn't found out what Sherlock was seeing in his hallucinations. Could Sherlock still be obsessing over his dead parents? If that was the event that triggered this... it was possible.

Suddenly a cry came from Sherlock's bedroom and John dropped the newspaper he was holding. He ran into Sherlock's room expecting to find him awake and facing his illusions but instead Sherlock was still in bed; his brow covered in sweat, his arms and legs flailing out all over the bed. John was stunned. He'd never seen or heard Sherlock have a nightmare before. He'd begun to think his flatmate was invincible to fear but obviously that wasn't true.

He shook Sherlock by the shoulders like he'd done earlier and the man's eyes shot open. He lay in the darkness trying to get his breath back while John watched with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded numbly.

"I'm fine,"

"You don't look fine," John observed, "What were you dreaming about?"

"Stuff," Muttered Sherlock as his expression turned dark and he looked down.

"It was about your parents wasn't it?" Said John.

"That's the point," Replied Sherlock flinching from the reminder but not surprised John knew, "I don't even know."

John was confused but decided Sherlock should take his medication before anything else. He produced the bottle from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock eyed it warily without making any move to take it.

"Sherlock," Warned John.

"I don't want to!" He yelled, suddenly losing control, "It's not fun you know!"

"No one ever said it was," John answered, "But you need to take them. Please?" He added hoping Sherlock would just do as he was told.

Without a word Sherlock grabbed the bottled, unscrewed it and swallowed two pills with a gulp of water from the glass on his bedside table.

Xxx

"What did you mean earlier?" Asked John, sitting at the breakfast table.

"What?" Asked Sherlock, unsure of what John was talking about.

"When you said you didn't even know what your dreams were about."

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Sorry... the medicine makes it... _hard_ to remember some things."

John tried not to feel guilty.

"What I meant was that the real world is merging with the imaginary. Apparently." Sherlock continued and John ignored the last comment.

"I can't remember what I was hallucinating about. I need to go back. I need to know. I need to know what's real and not real. Without knowing how am I meant to continue?"

John realised what Sherlock was saying.

"You want me to let you miss your medication so you can see the people again?"

"Yes," Confirmed Sherlock nodding his head.

John debated this in his head. It was risky and dangerous- He didn't know what Sherlock would do. But he could see Sherlock needed to know exactly what was going on.

"Okay..." Agreed John, "But I'm not letting you go through this alone."

Xxx

_This chapter took a bit longer than the others. Sorry! I hope it's okay. I wasn't really sure. I'd just like to say this isn't a Johnlock. Some of the scenes I suppose could be interpreted that way but I didn't initially write it this way. Feel free to read it that way if you want though!_

_Thanks again for subscribing and reviewing. It's great encouragement! I love you guys!_

_Thanks for reading :)_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._


	5. Incoherent State of Mind

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter 5 – Incoherent State of Mind**

Sherlock wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. John believed that reliving memories could help but Sherlock thought otherwise. John had barely scratches the surface of Sherlock's problems. Underneath the act of bravado was a man in turmoil. He was unsure of what was true and the truth often seemed like a lie. Conspiracy theories bounce through his mind. He was certain now about which was right and which was wrong but he could slowly feel his grip on reality leaking away. It had drifted slowly but now it was falling fast, rushing through his fingers. He should tell somebody but a voice in his head had warned him not to. John wouldn't like that. No, John wouldn't like that at all.

Xxx

"You okay?" Asked John, sitting on the sofa while Sherlock paced up and down the room.

"Of course," Snapped Sherlock, "Why wouldn't I be?"

John didn't grace him with an answer. Any concern would be lost on Sherlock.

John wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. All the medical books said to do the opposite. Make sure you take your medicine and don't relapse. Usually John would never waver from what he'd been taught but this was different. Why? Well because Sherlock was different. John had seen the man work- how his mind saw things so quickly and managed to draw conclusions even quicker. How could anything for 'normal' people work for Sherlock? And yet, John knew the man was human. He'd seen that merely yesterday when he'd returned home. Mycroft had proved it too by telling him the story of Sherlock's parents. John was certain the impossible theories of murder were Sherlock's way of dealing with his fear. John hadn't confronted Sherlock about this. Sherlock wouldn't like it if he did. No, Sherlock wouldn't like it at all.

Xxx

It was around one into afternoon when the first signs started. John was just about to rise and make some lunch when Sherlock's head snapped up.

"John?" He asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

"What?" Asked John, moving forwards automatically.

"Can you hear the voices?" He whispered, eyes darting from side to side.

John shook his head.

"What are they saying Sherlock?"

"They whisper things... Taunts..."

"What kind of taunts?" Encouraged John.

"Accusations. How I'm not- not *clever* enough to solve the problem."

The problem? Thought John. What problem? Surely not his parents death. Sherlock didn't doubt the idea they were murdered. What else was going on?

Sherlock's eyes widened.

"N-no, You're.. You're not real..."

"Sherlock?" Asked John worried.

"Mum.. Dad! I'm sorry! I know!" Sherlock cried, his eyes glassy as if he was trying not to cry. "I can prove it! I know what happened!"

Parents, listed John as the first thing Sherlock was haunted by.

Sherlock's gaze turned to the door as if someone had just entered the room.

"Alex?" He breathed, frozen in time.

Suddenly John realised there was other things bothering Sherlock apart from his parents.

Xxx

_I'm so sorry guys that this chapters so short. I felt like I had to post something but I haven't got much time on my hands so it had to end there. I've already got the start of the next chapter so please bear with me! I won't be able to post anymore this weekend 'cause I'm going to a friend's house but I can still write! Don't worry; I'm not going to stop writing! Sorry again._

_THANK YOU all for your lovely reviews- they keep me writing! Thanks as well for your alerts/favourites! They mean alot to me!_

_Sorry again- I feel really bad! :(_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._


	6. Talks

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter 6 - Talks**

The rest of the day ticked by endearingly slowly. Sherlock was frantic at some moments, manically laughing at others and fearful for some.

John tried to comfort him. It wasn't nice seeing his best friend fighting invisible forces. He also tried to notice what Sherlock was talking about. There was common moments were Sherlock would mutter about his parents. He also heard a mention of thee deaths in a manic laughing occasion. The name Alex appeared again but when it did Sherlock would always be apologising, flinching away from unseen objects. John would reassure him that everything was fine but he wasn't entirely sure it was helping.

Finally, as the day turned to night, Sherlock's eyes flicked open. He had an alert look on his face.

"Give me the medicine John."

"Sherlock!" Cried John, overjoyed to finally see his friend in a alert state.

"Please," He asked, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Sherlock?" Asked John cautiously.

"They're still there," muttered Sherlock, "I need them to go, please. Just for a moment."

John silently passed him the pills. He was glad Sherlock wanted them but this acceptance worried him.

Sherlock quickly swallowed them and lay back with his eyes closed. John pushed forward a plate of food he'd made earlier.

"Eat," He demanded.

Sherlock picked up the fork obediently and skewered a piece of chicken.

"What's your conclusions?" John asked who had decided straight to point was a good method with Sherlock.

"As I expected," He answered eyeing the fork cautiously before popping it in his mouth.

"Sherlock," complained John folding his arms.

"What?" Asked Sherlock swallowing. He made a face. "The food's cold, you know."

John ignored him.

"You said you'd talk to me."

"I said I'd let you help me."

"That includes talking to me!" Exclaimed John.

Sherlock put down the cutlery.

"Not hungry," He explained as John made a face."Fine. You want to know what happened? You want to know what I saw? Why I exclaimed Alex? I know you heard."

John nodded.

"Let's start with what I saw," Spat Sherlock. He wasn't enjoying this conversation. "My parents asking me why I hadn't solved their murder. Taunting me."

"It wasn't murder," John said quietly.

"Says you." Objected Sherlock.

"What evidence do you have?"

"Well, the bodies weren't allowed to be seen, highly suspicious behaviour-"

"Your twisting facts to suit theories," Interrupted John, "You know that. Deep down I know you know that."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but stopped at the last moment. Was John right? It was true that not all the facts supported his theory but still!

"Come on Sherlock, deduce the truth."

Car crash his mind screamed, not murder.

"Car crash," Sherlock relayed in a deadpan voice.

John smiled.

"So what else?" He continued. He felt Sherlock stiffen.

"Please Sherlock, you're doing really well."

"Alex, I saw Alex."

"Who's Alex?" John questioned.

"Alex was a... Friend."

"Friend?" Repeated John.

"Yes, she was a friend."

"She?" John said shocked.

"Yes!" Replied Sherlock in an annoyed voice, "And no, she wasn't my girlfriend. She was just a friend. A close friend. She wasn't like the other children. She didn't call me a freak or steal my things. She was rather difficult to deduce too. Woman always are; they're ruled by their emotions and not their head. Usually the public are alot easier than criminals though.  
She helped me with experiments when I was a child. Yet one day the unthinkable happened. An experiment went wrong..."

Sherlock didn't show any emotion. He was beyond that. Deep down he felt pain though. Raw, burning pain.

"I'm sorry Sherlock," John said.

"Don't be," He responded, "It was my fault. I'm responsible."

"No you're not!" Insisted John, "You were just a child!"

Sherlock shook his head.

"I wasn't just a child John. Surely you've guessed I was always intelligent for my age. I should've known better."

John shook his head in annoyance.

"You stubborn git. Everyone has a childhood, even you. And every child makes mistakes."

"Really?" Asked Sherlock, doubt in his voice.

"Yes!" Laughed John, ruffling Sherlock's hair. Sherlock glares at him, a look of death upon his face.

"Er... Sorry?" John asked.

Sherlock looked like he was about to blow but then he burst out laughing.

Xxx

_New chapter! It's a bit short again but quality is better than quantity, right? There may be a new one this weekend- I'm not sure. Thanks for reading!_

_No reviews this time :( but lots of lovely story alerts! :D_

_Please review if you have time. _

_**Disclaimer:**____I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._


	7. Conclusions

**Merging with the Illusory**

**Chapter 7- Conclusions **

_2 weeks later_

John moved round the flat quietly. They'd just finished a case and Sherlock was finally sleeping. He'd stayed up for three consecutive nights and was literally exhausted. John knew there was another reason for him to be staying up though. The nightmares.

They were still there. Sherlock was afraid of them despite his protests. But it was getting better. They were slowly fading away. Sherlock could finally sleep without being disturbed. When he had explained them to John he had been afraid and nervous but know he could openly discuss them. Only to John though.

He'd started taking his medication properly again. It was a relief to John who had tried so hard over the last two weeks to act as a friend, Doctor and listener. Sherlock wasn't the easiest patient but he was probably the one John got the most satisfaction out of helping. He was so thrilled when Sherlock finally stopped believing in the conspiracies. It had taken a while but after the day of Sherlock and John's discussion, Sherlock had finally began the healing process.

Yesterday Sherlock had taken John aside at the crime scene and looking awkward proceeded to thank him.

"_I just want you to know John, I'm extremely grateful for what you've done for me. Without you I'd probably never have stopped believing the hallucinations. And... blaming myself for things."_

John was flattered by his flatmates trust in him and gratefulness. It was a side of Sherlock that only appeared occasionally.

Mycroft too had shown his thanks. It wasn't face to face but when a new collection of books he wanted had appeared on the doorstep he knew it wasn't just random.

So things were going well. Sherlock was recovering- he might never recover completely but at least he was better. He had wanted to quit the medicine but John had managed to convince him waiting would be better.

_Patience _He had insisted. And it had worked. Already a letter had appeared from the Hospital asking Sherlock to come in for an appointment. John assumed Mycroft had contacted them and informed them of Sherlock's rapid recovery. Sherlock had smiled in delight when he read it despite his hatred of hospitals.

"_They are annoying places where people fuss over you unnecessarily and act clever."_

John would've smirked apart from the fact he was more relieved than amused. Finally it appeared things were getting better.

There was a loud clatter of sound as Sherlock stumbled through the doorway between his bedroom and the dining room. John turned to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, obviously having fallen there, with a bleary look in his eyes.

"You okay?" Asked John, chortling at the scene before him.

Sherlock looked up at him, a content look on his face. He had been through alot in the past years and he was grateful to John for helping him. He was at last pleased with where his life was going. The voices were still there but they were quieter now. Hopefully over time he could learn to tune them out.

"I'm fine, John." He replied, "Absolutely fine."

Xxx

_**A/N:**__ So that brings my story to a close! I admit, perhaps that wasn't the best ending but I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading! I wouldn't have finished this without you!_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Sherlock as much as I'd love to. The series was made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the characters were originally created by Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. I'd also just like to say that I know very little of Schizophrenia so all medical terms are from the web. Please excuse any mistakes I make, I will correct all if possible. I also mean no offence to anyone who is/was suffering from Schizophrenia or anyone who knows someone suffering from Schizophrenia._


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